


(congratulations on) the mess you made of things

by introductory



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Barebacking, Biting, Dirty Talk, Ex Sex, Friends With Benefits, Infidelity, M/M, Noise Kink, PWP, Possessiveness, Rough Sex, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 19:01:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14195649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/introductory/pseuds/introductory
Summary: "Kiss me," Ignis demands, so Gladio does.  Ignis's mouth on his is ferocious and sloppy, nothing like the precise, polite kisses Gladio's seen him give his boyfriend in the corridors of the Citadel.  If there's any one of them Gladio ought to feel guilty about cuckolding over the years it's the soft-spoken Elian Corvinus, who worked his way up from the mailroom to council chambers and advocates tirelessly for the poor and disadvantaged, who looks at Ignis with such naked adoration it hurts Gladio's teeth towitness --but still, he can't find it in himself to regret this.  He'll never regret stealing Ignis away, time after time, from whoever he's chosen to date; he's only sorry he ever agreed to let him go.





	(congratulations on) the mess you made of things

**Author's Note:**

> **a:** im SO mad, tswift's "style" played and i thought "this is gladnis ex sex"  
>  **a:** IGNIS HAS THE GOOD GIRL FAITH AND A TIGHT LITTLE SKIRT
> 
> For day 8 of [FFXV Kink Week](https://ffxv-kink-week.tumblr.com/) (dirty talk) and [this prompt](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4747.html?thread=9300107) on the kink meme. Gladnis ain't even my ship but when I get stressed, Ignis gets wrecked.
> 
> Also includes, in no particular order: infidelity, biting, unprotected sex, spit-as-lube, gaping, intense eye contact, references to fisting and car sex, mild angst, being held down, possessiveness, ass-to-mouth, pining . . . just, you know, the usual.

Ignis is so tight when Gladio sinks into him that he almost can't believe he's getting fucked on the regular by Undersecretary Corvinus if the man hadn't been walking around the Citadel in a constant daze for the past five weeks, wearing Ignis's love-bites underneath his starched collars and an expression on his face like he'd just won the lottery and secured peace with the Niffs in the space of ten minutes. Gladio wasn't sure if Ignis was doing it on purpose or whether Gladio'd looked like that the entire time the two of them had been together -- _sleeping_ together, Ignis likes to correct, as if they'd never once stayed up late talking about their future, as if Ignis didn't spend the tenth anniversary of his mom's death curled in a ball in Gladio's sheets while Gladio brought him water and called in sick to work for him, Cor's voice on the other end of the line knowing and impassive. Maybe he'd known they weren't going to work out; maybe everyone'd known. It wouldn't be the first time Gladio got in over his head. 

Wouldn't be the first time Ignis had him drowning, either -- not even the first time this week. Gladio's lucky Ignis came inside instead of just dragging him into the backseat of his BMW like he'd done the other night and giving him a truly filthy blowjob before climbing up and turning around and sinking down onto him, looking back coolly over his shoulder as Gladio bashed his head against the cupholders and tried not to tear the leather upholstery to shreds. It's always better in a bed, better when Gladio can take the time get his partner naked, to get them completely trusting and open and bare, better when it's someone he knows like the back of his hand --

It's always best when it's with Ignis.

Always has been, always will be. No matter how many girlfriends Gladio runs through or how many glaives and guards Ignis deigns to fuck, no matter how many years it's been since the two of them were officially _over_. It's always going to be Ignis for him, always and forever, and Gladio would hate the fact that Ignis knew if it wasn't also the same for him, if he didn't keep showing up at Gladio's door and  begging -- sometimes literally -- for his dick, if he wasn't spread out underneath Gladio right now with his eyes lidded, his lips parted around a sigh, the inside of his body burning hotter than his namesake.

"Iggy," says Gladio, once he's as far inside as he can get. "Hey. You good?"

Ignis's eyes flutter all the way closed. "Mm," he says; he rolls his shoulders back against the bed, languid. "I am now." 

Gladio doesn't bother asking if Ignis is good for him to move, just draws back and then pushes forward into that tight heat. They've skipped the prep this time, too, and the raw friction of Ignis's ass is dizzying, it's absolutely fucking unbelievable. He can't help groaning in pleasure, the sound drowned out by Ignis's husky moans as Gladio loosens him up with his cock. It's not easy, but Iggy's always been a bit of a masochist -- he'd have to be, toiling away so tirelessly for Noct without so much as a _thank_ _you_ \-- and if he's hurting he doesn't say a word. 

Gladio doesn't mind having to work for it. Ignis gives as good as he gets, arching his back and rocking his hips up to meet Gladio thrust for thrust, and soon enough he's loose enough for Gladio to start up a rhythm, slow and heavy like the rolling of the tides. It's a pace guaranteed to drive Ignis mad, and judging by the steel clamp of Ignis's thighs around his ribs Gladio would say it's doing the job, and not just for Ignis.

"Fuck," he groans, hips snapping forward. "Iggy -- _shit_."

He's been with plenty of girls over the last three years, even had the privilege of fucking some of them in the ass, but nothing compares to this: nothing will ever beat the rippling clench of Ignis's body as he draws Gladio in like he was made for this and nothing, for no one else. No vision could ever top the sight and sound of Ignis gasping for breath beneath him, hair fanned out across the pillows like a halo, still damp from his post-training shower, or the taste of his skin as Gladio licks his way down to the muscular join of his shoulder and sinks his teeth in without preamble. Ignis cries out, a sound quickly muffled behind his own palm, and Gladio applies just enough pressure to make Ignis _whimper_ before easing up and pressing his lips to that pale, beautiful throat, the underside of his jaw, the shell of his ear, feverishly hot. 

"Kiss me," Ignis demands, so Gladio does. Ignis's mouth on his is ferocious and sloppy, nothing like the precise, polite kisses Gladio's seen him give his boyfriend in the corridors of the Citadel. If there's any one of them Gladio ought to feel guilty about cuckolding over the years it's the soft-spoken Elian Corvinus, who worked his way up from the mailroom to council chambers and advocates tirelessly for the poor and disadvantaged, who looks at Ignis with such naked adoration it hurts Gladio's teeth to witness -- but still, he can't find it in himself to regret this. He'll never regret stealing Ignis away, time after time, from whoever he's chosen to date; he's only sorry he ever agreed to let him go.

But it's dangerous territory, this kind of thinking, and besides Gladio's got much better things to focus on right now: he pulls back so he can look at Ignis, flushed from his high cheekbones all the way down to his chest and flushing darker still under Gladio's scrutiny. Ignis doesn't shy away from his gaze, though, just stares up at him with those piercing green eyes and that gorgeous mouth parted in ecstasy, and Gladio slams in again just to shake loose another stifled moan. The practiced clench of Ignis's muscles around him is _sinful_ , gripping him so tightly on every outstroke that Gladio's vision blurs around the edges, brain shorting out from pleasure and the selfish knowledge that no other man has experienced the wonder that is Ignis's ass without a condom, that the only seed to ever paint Ignis's insides has been Gladio's and his alone. 

"Harder," says Ignis. Gladio gives him a few good, solid thrusts, hard enough to shake the bedposts, but Ignis just thumps his heels into the small of Gladio's back. " _Harder_."

Just for that, Gladio stops, leaving only the tip of his cock inside Ignis, and only when Ignis opens his mouth to scold him does Gladio really give it to him; Ignis chokes on whatever he was going to say and clutches at Gladio's biceps, holding on for dear life. He mostly succeeds in keeping his eyes open, but with each punishing thrust his gaze becomes a little less focused, his expression a little more dazed. Gladio takes his left thigh and flattens it to the mattress, spreading Ignis open wider, and pounds away for another few minutes before finally slowing down to give both of them a breather.

"Hard enough for you?" 

Ignis's eyes snap open at the question; he doesn't exactly nod, but he doesn't bitch at Gladio, either, so he's going to count it as a win. Besides, Ignis looks absolutely wrecked: his hair is a haphazard mess and his teeth have left a white, bloodless imprint on his bottom lip. Gladio pulls out of him, grinning at his sound of protest, and drags Ignis back down the length of the bed, forces his thighs up until they're pressed to his chest. Obediently, Ignis grips the backs of his thighs, freeing Gladio to lean down and examine Ignis's spit-slick, fuck-swollen hole; he hooks his thumbs just inside the rim and pulls, stretching Ignis until he hisses and bucks away, ass clenching desperately against the digits holding him open.

"Too much for you all of a sudden?" says Gladio. He stretches Ignis a fraction more, just enough to set off another round of those sweet, pained gasps, before withdrawing his thumbs. "You used to _beg_ me to put it all inside. All five of my fingers in that tight little ass, and now you can't take a little stretch?"

"Forgive me if I'm a bit . . . out of practice," Ignis huffs, letting his heels fall back to the bed. "That isn't exactly the kind of thing one asks for less than two months into a new relationship."

"But _after_ two -- that's okay, then," says Gladio, and there's the spite he's been trying his absolute damnedest not to show, not to feel; for the briefest of moments all he knows is the white-hot flash of jealousy, but he shoves it down, hard. There's no use for it, not here, not if he doesn't want Ignis to get dressed and leave and treat him like a pariah until Gladio swallows his pride and grovels or Noct does something stupid and the two of them have to deal with him together. Gladio knows better than to think they'd be friends if it wasn't for Noct, much less have ever met; sometimes it feels like he's gotten lucky, sometimes it feels like a curse.

Ignis breaks the tension by reaching down to caress Gladio's face. "No other man could ever be inside me the way you have, Gladiolus," he says, so earnest and sincere that Gladio forgives him instantly. He presses a wet kiss to the bend of his knee, then moves further north; Iggy's always completely smooth, bare all over like a girl, and it's a fact Gladio appreciates as he licks up the crease of Ignis's ass, dipping briefly inside his hole and tonguing at his balls, sucking on them one after the other just to hear Ignis muffle behind his hand some of the filthiest language Gladio's heard this side of the Kingsglaive barracks.

When he gets his mouth on Ignis's dick, though, Ignis's cry is wordless, the sound echoing off the walls. He's never been able to keep it down while getting head, and especially not with Gladio sliding two fingers deep inside of him at the same time, all the way to the palm; he bucks up into Gladio's mouth, hips rising off the bed before he can stop himself, and Gladio can't help smiling around Ignis's cock. He keeps sucking him off and stroking his tender insides, applying the briefest pressure to his sweet spot and then avoiding it altogether, and the sobs of frustration that come from Ignis's mouth are a fucking _symphony_ to his ears. 

"Shh," Gladio says, pulling off at last. "Neighbors."

"It's nothing they hav -- _ah_ \-- " Ignis says breathlessly, "haven't heard before," and for that Gladio turns and digs his teeth into the soft skin of Ignis's inner thigh, savage as an animal, until Ignis keens, hands clutching desperately at Gladio's hair and shoulders to drag him back up. 

"Fuck me," he demands, biting at Gladio's lower lip, "Gladio, stop wasting my time and _fuck_ me, damn  it -- "

Gladio doesn't need to be told twice. "Gods, Iggy, you're a slut," he says fondly, hooking Ignis's knees over his shoulders and pressing forward until Ignis is bent in half. He isn't a small guy by any means, but Gladio's pretty damn big, and even when they're being careful and using lube he's never able to bottom out in Ignis completely; still, each of his strokes goes deep into the heart of him, so deep Gladio can _feel_ it when he gets a hand between them, over Ignis's lower abs. He might not be going as hard or fast as before, but if Ignis's blissed-out noises in his ear are any indication the depth is more than making up for it. 

"Pipe down," Gladio says, even though he wants exactly the opposite, wants Ignis to scream Gladio's name at the top of his goddamn lungs until there's no doubt in anyone's mind who truly owns him. "Or are you tryin' to let the whole world know how much you like this -- how much you fucking _love_ this?" 

Ignis just moans in reply, and Gladio keeps driving into him, letting Ignis's knees fall into the crooks of his elbows, his pale feet dangling limply in his peripheral vision. As much as he enjoys when Ignis takes control he loves it most of all when Ignis gives in and submits: when he's utterly fucked-out and pliant and willing in Gladio's arms, looking up at him with those beautiful, tear-filled eyes, entirely at his mercy. It's the kind of power that'd drive someone mad if they got too much; Gladio's got to be halfway there himself.

"Yeah," he says. "You do, don't you? You want everyone to know how much you love having a dick in your ass?"

"Fuck," Ignis sobs. "Gladio -- "

"Or maybe it's just 'cause it's _my_ dick in your  ass -- maybe you're only this loud 'cause _I'm_ the one fucking you so well, giving it to you better than anybody else ever could, huh?"

"G-Gladio," gasps Ignis, raising a hand to cover his own face, but Gladio isn't having any of that; he leans up, pinning both of Ignis's wrists above his head and shoving into him with the same swift motion, and Ignis chokes around another repeat of his name, voice rising in a wail. " _Please_ \-- "

"Shh," Gladio says, "I got you, Iggy." He strokes Ignis's hair softly with his free hand. "You gonna be a good boy and take it?"

"Yes, Gladio, give it to me -- " says Ignis, and Gladio has never been able to say no to him. He keeps Ignis's wrists pinned down and fucks into him hard, the headboard thumping against the wall with every heavy stroke, Ignis's voice rising steadily in volume, alternating between curses and unintelligible noise, until Gladio finally clamps a hand over Ignis's mouth to shut him up.

"Trying to get me evicted?" he says, and Ignis shakes his head _no_ , eyes wide and wet. Gladio knows the moaning's all for show, anyway -- used to have to really _work_ to get more than a sigh out of those pretty lips. He wonders sometimes who it was that taught Ignis how to properly make noise; wonders, too, what his neighbors must be thinking right now, hearing Ignis practically screaming through the walls. Gladio might be single now but he definitely wasn't when the lady from 406 caught the two of them fooling around in the stairwell, Gladio's pants around his knees and Ignis's mouth two inches from his dick, or the time Ignis limped out of Gladio's apartment and right into the guy from 401, knocking his groceries to the floor, and Gladio got stuck in the hallway with them picking up dented cans of tomato sauce and hoping they didn't smell too much like they'd been fucking for three straight hours. They've been reckless at times, even stupid, and there's no guarantee each time won't be their last; all it would take is one wrong move, one set of loose lips, to bring the whole thing tumbling down. That they've gotten away with it for years now just means they ought to quit while they're ahead.

Right. Like that's ever going to happen: Gladio isn't remotely ready for this to end, and clearly neither is Ignis. At least they're safe about it, and if Ignis's boyfriends aren't smart enough to figure out why he has bruises on his hips all the time, why he opens up so effortlessly for them on the inside like he's just been freshly fucked -- well, that's their own goddamn problem. Gladio laps up a bead of sweat that's tracing its way down Ignis's jaw, presses open-mouthed kisses to Ignis's flushed cheeks, shoves his tongue deep into Ignis's mouth and takes what he wants, and Ignis surrenders to him, utterly his. He bares the long column of his throat in submission and Gladio takes the invitation, bites down hard enough to make Ignis cry out, body arching off the bed.

"Fucking beautiful," says Gladio, tracing the skin with his tongue, feeling the tremor that runs through Ignis at the compliment. "So beautiful and all fucking mine -- "

"Yours," gasps Ignis, "always, Gladio," his gaze focused and intense, and Gladio has to lean up and kiss him, hard and bruising, to keep from fucking up and saying, _love you, Iggy, always_. Even though it's true; even though they both already know. Even though it's never needed to be said aloud, not when Gladio keeps coming back for more, time after time after time.

Ignis always bites his lip when he's about to come, screws his eyes shut and turns his head and starts trembling head-to-toe like he's in resistance training and determined not to give in to whatever torture the marshal's putting them through, and Gladio knows that's his cue to give Ignis all he's got. He gets up on his knees, lifting Ignis's hips off the bed so his full weight is on his shoulders, and pounds into him until he lets go: completely silent and untouched, teeth digging into his lip, hands fisted in the sheets above his head. His come splatters hot across his chest and still Gladio doesn't stop; he _knows_ Ignis, knows he lives for those first few moments after orgasm where everything is oversensitive and overbright and each one of Gladio's thrusts sends fire sparking down his nerves, and sure enough Ignis has started to make noise again, his breathless moans riding the  knife-edge of pleasure and pain. He hasn't stopped shaking, clutching at Gladio with his thighs and his insides, and Gladio fucks him through the aftershocks and further still. 

" _G-Gladio_ ," Ignis says at last, squirming, the discomfort clear on his face. Gladio thrusts once, twice more before sliding out of him and lowering him down to the bed. He shuffles forward, taking himself in hand, and Ignis raises himself up on his elbows so he can get his lips around Gladio's cock; his mouth is hot and wet and greedy as he swallows Gladio down without the slightest hesitation, letting Gladio tug him up roughly by the hair, never breaking eye contact for a second. There's saliva dripping from Ignis's lips and tears leaking from the corners of his eyes and he's so fucking gorgeous Gladio wants to grab his phone and take a picture and show him off to everyone at the Citadel, wants to tell the whole world who Ignis Scientia really belongs to, body and soul. 

Ignis works to take him in deeper, nearly all the way into his throat, and Gladio tightens his grip on Ignis's hair, fingers twisting in those silken strands. "I'm gonna," he grits out; it only takes a few seconds more before he's coming, rutting mindlessly into that perfect, talented mouth. He groans and curses, hauling Ignis in so close Gladio can feel his throat seize, but Ignis just swallows and swallows around his cock, fluttering throat milking every last drop from him until he's utterly spent. When Gladio finally lets him go a thin string of saliva stretches between Ignis's lips and Gladio's dick, broken only when he licks his lips: the movement slow, as if he's in a daze. 

"Gods," pants Gladio. "Fuck, Ignis. Shit. How are -- how do you -- "

He breaks off, lost for words. Ignis closes his eyes and lies back against the bed, chest heaving and slick with sweat, and Gladio drops down beside him, equally winded. He reaches over and catches Ignis's chin, turns his face towards him; his expression is always so soft after sex, like he's finally gotten all the uptightness fucked out of him, and Gladio's heart aches at the sight. "You're so good," he says. "So fucking good."

Ignis opens his eyes, then. "As are you," he murmurs, turning his face into the touch, and Gladio can't help leaning in to kiss him, soft and slow and sweet. The next few minutes are spent making out, unhurried, like they have all the time in the world: Gladio knows it can't be more than a few minutes before Ignis is gently pushing him away and grabbing a corner of the bedclothes to clean them both up.

"Let me," says Gladio, plucking the sheet from his hands. Ignis quivers and gasps when he bends down and runs his tongue across the mess Ignis made of himself, licking him clean, but Gladio doesn't stop there. He cleans Ignis's cock as well, circling his lips loosely around the head and sucking lightly for good measure, and when Ignis pushes him away this time it's far less gentle than before.

" _Please_ , Gladio," he says, a slight rasp to his voice. "I do have places to be after this, you know."

"I know, I know." Gladio draws back reluctantly. "When is His Highness gonna learn to cook his own dinner?" 

"Sooner than you'll learn to be patient with him, I expect."

Gladio snorts. "He's eighteen. If he can't handle a simple stir-fry, he sure as hell isn't ready to rule."

"Give it time," says Ignis, rising from the bed. Personally, Gladio thinks he's given Noct a couple more years than he really deserves, but Iggy's so soft on the kid it'd just turn into an argument, and that's the _last_ thing Gladio wants after this. Just another one of the things they disagree on: these days it seems like they hardly see eye-to-eye on anything besides sex.

He stretches, his entire body pleasantly sore and aching in all the best ways; he's going to feel it all through his duties tomorrow, but that's not such a bad thing -- and Ignis is gonna be feeling it a thousand times worse, so Gladio has no room to complain. He rolls over onto his stomach and watches Ignis get dressed like a striptease in reverse: first the briefs and the socks, then the trousers and the shirt, then the glasses, the wristwatch, and finally the royal icon around his neck, the one that marks him as Noct's. 

Ignis smooths down his shirtfront and clears his throat before turning back to Gladio. "I'll see you tomorrow, then," he says, all business, and Gladio says, 

"Break up with him."

Ignis freezes, still as a statue. "Gladio."

"Break up with him," repeats Gladio. He sits up and looks Ignis straight in the eye. "We'll run away to Altissia, make some babies. I'll row gondolas for a living and buy you fresh flowers every day; I won't even start a fight when all the guys at the farmers' market try to steal you away."

" _Gladio_."

"I mean it, Iggy," Gladio tells him, "run away with me," and the hell of it is, he almost does. After a long moment Ignis breaks eye contact, shaking his head and turning away; Gladio hears a sigh escape his lips. He stares at Ignis's back, knowing he shouldn't have said it, not terribly sorry he did.

"Good night, Gladio," Ignis says at last. He opens the door and turns back to the bed, expression more tentative than Gladio expected, and lifts a hand in goodbye. Gladio mirrors the gesture and watches him leave, wondering how many days it'll be this time before they're right back where they started.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr (largely Ignoct): [@getintherobot](https://getintherobot.tumblr.com/).


End file.
